Free Mothman's Curse by Christine Hayes

afford to get a week behind. We’re thinking of having the newspaper do a write-up about the Goodrich estate, maybe on Wednesday, get the word out without causing too much fuss.”
    â€œDad,” Fox said, “word’s already out. People were calling the house all morning.”
    His face fell. “I should have known. I suppose it’s just a matter of time before…”
    â€œJim!” Aunt Barb burst into the room. “Look who we ran into in the hall.”
    Brothers and auction regulars Carl and Joe, looking as out of place as pigs in a pool hall, stood in the doorway, one of them holding a yellow smiley face balloon even though his own expression was as dour as ever.
    â€œHello there, fellas!” Dad said.
    The tiny room, already crowded with Fox, Mason, and me, now felt stifling. We stood squished against the far wall as the small talk began anew. It quickly turned from “So sorry about your unfortunate accident” to “Since we’re such good customers, how about you let us have a preview of that Goodrich estate?”
    Barb sent them on their way soon enough. “We’re going, too. Kids, say your goodbyes now. Your daddy needs his rest if he’s to come home to us as quick as he can.”
    â€œYou’ll be seeing more of Mitch until my cast comes off,” Dad said when I hugged him. “You liked him, right, guys?” I nodded; Fox shrugged. “Nice young fellow, good to have around. Bill is arranging it all. He found someone else to keep an eye on the Goodrich home. You three help Mitch and Uncle Bill out where they need you, all right?”
    Dad hugged Fox next. “You help your aunt and your sister, understand?” Fox nodded. “And keep a lid on those moneymaking schemes,” Dad added with a wink. “Josie, you’ll keep him in line, won’t you?”
    â€œI’ll try.”
    â€œWhat about me, Dad?” Mason demanded, making one more attempt to climb up on the bed. Aunt Barb wrapped both arms across his chest to keep him still.
    â€œYour job is to help your aunt set up a space for me in the living room. I won’t be going up and down stairs for a while. Okay?”
    Mason nodded and threw his arms around Dad’s neck. I remembered Mason’s terrified screams and my own pounding heart as we’d rushed to him the night before, not knowing what we’d find.
    With my family gathered in that cramped room, I felt a pang of love and fear and loss. Momma’s death had left a jagged, painful hole in our lives, but it had brought us closer together, too. I vowed that nothing was going to ruin the happiness we had left.
    We left the hospital mostly in good spirits, thankful that Dad seemed okay, relieved that nothing strange had happened since the night before.
    We kept so busy the rest of the day that I found myself wishing I’d gone to school instead.
    Fox and I spent hours uploading photos to the computer and adding them to the Fletcher Auctions website. I was pretty comfortable with computers, so a few years back, Dad had appointed me official website administrator. It was way less glamorous than it sounded.
    Uncle Bill wrote item descriptions and a paragraph about the Goodrich family, struggling for the right balance between respectful and “Don’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime sale!” Fox helped him spice it up a little—just enough to draw in customers instead of lulling them into a coma.
    Working in the storeroom, I kept jumping at the slightest sound. My neck and shoulders grew stiff. I found myself humming Momma’s favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine,” to fill the silence.
    Uncle Bill had discovered the shattered lights. He scratched his head but otherwise didn’t question it. Just went and got new bulbs and the extra tall ladder and replaced them.
    At one point, I spotted the shadow box and books we’d left behind the night before. I hid them in a closet